


The Other Side of the Rainbow Road

by Anonymous



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Manga Spoilers, Mugiwara no Ichimi | Straw Hat Pirates, Nakama, One Shot Collection, Whole Cake Island Arc, speculation gone wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: One shot collection for 32days of Sanji. Please forgive the random title.#1 Family: Sanji keeps three photographs with his recipe collection. A gust of wind, creative nakama, and the usual shenanigans result in a fourth picture joining the collection.#2 Tears: Whole Cake Island lies in ruin, the Vinsmoke family dead. However, even with that Sanji's troubles are far from over.#4 Hands: They've almost made it back to the Sunny. When the exploding wristlets are brought up, and with Pudding's devil fruit ability, can they really be sure Reiju managed to switch them out for fakes? Featuring a very angry Luffy, and an introperspective Zoro, and once more: spoilers + speculation.





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to bring shipping goggles - it's not really here yet, but the journey might head there in future installments.

A sudden gust of wind as the door opens jostles the map Nami has been drawing, and only her quick reaction makes sure nothing flies off the kitchen table. Sanji’s notebook isn’t quite as lucky; the somewhat tattered volume tumbles off the counter, and three slips of paper slide out.

“Sorry about that,” Usopp calls from the doorway, hair tousled from the strong wind outside.

“Close the door, Usopp,” Sanji orders before turning down the flame and hurrying around the counter. Nami has already moved to pick up the notebook and the spilled paper, with Usopp moving to the one that drifted all the way to the door.

“Oh, it’s a picture,” the sniper observes, failing to notice how Sanji momentarily stiffens. He recognizes the thin, newspaper clipping even without seeing the picture itself.

“That’s… is that you, Sanji?” Usopp asks, eyes widening. “And are those… is that your family?” Nami glances between them, having collected the other two pictures without looking at them. For a moment the air is charged with something, though Usopp doesn’t notice.  

Sanji inhales a lungful of smoke. A few months ago he’d have denied any connection emphatically. Then again, a few months ago he didn’t have that picture.

“Well,” he replies. “I don’t really consider them family.” Nor his brothers and he’s still not sure about Reiju.  

“Huh,” Usopp mutters, turning his attention back to the picture that was cut out from a newspaper. Nami looks in askance to Sanji, though as he makes no move to demand the picture back, she quietly sidles up to Usopp and takes a glance, too. Sharing that part of his past feels awkward, but after everything his nakama went through on his behalf they deserve to know.

Sanji quietly turns back to dinner preparations. He knows what photograph they are looking at; it’s perhaps the one family portrait that doesn’t come with nightmares attached. But then again, it had been taken when his mother was alive and he’d not been deemed a complete failure yet. Sure, there is a bandage peeking out from underneath a long sleeve on that photo, but no other bruises are in sight. Or perhaps they had been hidden; Sanji doesn’t quite recall. 

* * *

 

“Sanji, why don’t you sit with me and your sister?” his mother asks, petting the space on the wide armchair besides her. She’d look small in an armchair built to support the wider girth of certain world nobles anyway, but she lost weight again recently, too. Sanji resolves to see if he can’t find time to cook for her - even if being at Mariejois means there hasn’t been a free minute at all.

And the main summit hasn’t even started.

“Stop pushing, Niji,” Yonji complains, trying to slip past his sibling. Ichiji has dutifully taken the spot right next to the armchair and in front of their father. It’s to reflect his position as the oldest; Sanji understands. He also understands that he ought to be fighting at least for the spot behind him himself like Niji and Yonji do, but he’d rather sit with his mother anyway.

Father will probably be disappointed, he thinks, but his mother’s smile when he nods and moves over makes it worthwhile.

“Here, sit next to me,” Sora instructs and lifts him up when Sanji finds he isn’t quite tall enough for the furniture yet. “Reiju, sweetling, you stand there - that way everyone can see your pretty dress.”

“Of course, mother.” Reiju dutifully takes up the position her mother indicates. She doesn’t particularly care for pretty dresses - though this one, even Sanji realizes, is special. Certainly, it has nothing on their mother’s gown. Father commonly isn’t frugal when it comes to clothes, though he doesn’t care much beyond “dress for your station”. But with their visit to Mariejois it had suddenly become important to impress.

Mother’s dress features some technologically advanced luminous fabric. It is breathtaking, but Sanji isn’t certain he likes the ethereal glow it gives her. Sometimes it feels as if mother is fading…

“But mother’s dress is the prettiest,” Sanji declares quietly, trying to arrange his own limbs so he doesn’t sit on any of that glowing fabric. One of his brothers makes a disgusted sound, but mother’s laughter drowns it out. She reaches over to ruffle Sanji’s hair.

“Why, thank you. You look cute, too,” she tugs at the collar of the formal suit she picked herself. Sanji loves it; maybe especially because it was mother’s choice. Father wanted them all to wear their battle suits, but mother had insisted.

“You all look very lovely,” mother announces with a wide smile, even if Sanji and Reiju are the only ones to smile in return. Ichiji merely grimaces, Niji rolls his eyes and Yonji declares “we should have worn our battle suits. That would have looked so much cooler.”

“Yonji, stand still,” father admonishes. He looks different out of his raid suit, too - they all do. Like this, Sanji thinks and he doesn’t quite know why his heart aches, they almost look like a normal family. 

* * *

 

Sanji exhales slowly as he looks at the picture. Looking at it now the rift in their family is already visible, what with Judge and his three brothers standing to the left, and mother, Reiju and him on the right. He wonders if the photographer back then saw it, too.

Then again, as the official photographer at Mariejois the guy probably saw far weirder things. Sanji doesn’t recall much (Judge wasn’t keen on letting them mingle), but some things still make him wonder if he didn’t imagine them.

“You look a lot like your mother,” Usopp comments, abruptly pulling Sanji from his rather solemn thoughts.  

He hides his smile by stirring one of the large pots. “She was the one decent person in that family,” he replies.

“She looks lovely,” Nami adds, gently. There is an unusually soft tone to her voice that makes Sanji swallows - it’s been so long, but sometimes he still misses her. Can’t help but wonder at what else could have been, had she not died. Had they been a normal family – a old, familiar ache throbs in his chest at that thought.

But then, he tells himself, he wouldn’t be here, so even if there will forever be an empty hole in his heart, it is still alright.

“What’s on the other pictures?” Usopp asks, reaching out for the paper clippings Nami still holds. “If it’s okay if we look?” he adds as a very late afterthought into Sanji’s direction.

“Go ahead,” the cook chuckles and reaches for his spices.

“Floating restaurant Baratie gains star rating,” Nami reads out loud.

Sanji grins. He remembers that one too; he kept the entire article. Looking back, it’s nothing special - the Baratie ended up winning a number of awards and prizes. But back when that had been published he’d been twelve and proud.

* * *

 

“Alright, can I get a picture with everyone?” the photographer and journalist asks of the cooks. It’s the early afternoon lull, but it’s still a challenge to get all cooks together for one picture. Zeff had agreed to the interview only very reluctantly - and it was already messing with the schedule.

“How about you take some pictures of the dining room?” Zeff asks instead. Sanji can’t see him, busy at the back of the kitchen, slicing fish. If he uses the time right he can get some more things sliced and chopped, so they will be ready to serve faster - and the customer won’t even notice the disruption in the kitchen.

“The rating was granted for the cooking, not the interior design,” the journalist returns undaunted.

“Then take pictures of the dishes,” Zeff grunts out. “Isn’t that what’s popular anyway?”

The journalist grimaces. “We already have a lot of those,” he tries. “And our readers are curious to see the cooks. I mean the Baratie is famous for its cooking and its cooks."

Sanji smiles quietly at the fish. To think that within just two years after getting off that cursed rock their restaurant is not only thriving but getting famous - it’s better than anything he dared to dream of.

“Eh, boss, I’m sure my wife would love to see a picture of us,” one of the senior cooks puts in. Sanji puts the perfectly sliced fish aside, gets out the next one.

“I could send it to my parents,” somebody else proclaims. “They’d be proud.” Several others chime in, agreeing.

Zeff groans in defeat. “Alright, alright, but make it quick.”

The journalist sighs in relief. “Certainly. Would you, as the proprietor take the seat in front? Yes, like that, and everyone else make sure everyone’s in the picture. Smaller people to the front, taller folks in the back. Yes, like this -”

“Oi, Sanji,” one of the cook calls. “You come to the front.”

Sanji doesn’t stop slicing. “You take the picture without me.” After all, there are no parents or friends who’d be proud to see his face in the paper. Rather – he shudders, and thankfully his thoughts aren’t allowed to drift.

“But you’ve been here longest, you should be on it,” somebody else insists. Sanji is about to refuse again - they’re wasting time, and he doesn’t want to be on the picture.

“Little eggplant, you come here and stop making everyone wait for you,” Zeff demands gruffly.

Sanji halts.

He doesn’t need to be on that picture, there’s no one to see it – and yet… His chest warms. It shouldn’t mean anything, but for some reason it feels as if it meant the world. Sanji blinks.

“Don’t make us wait,” Zeff hollers, and Sanji unfreezes. He swiftly tugs his uniform back into shape, and steps past the other cooks. Though once he’s out in the front he falters. Zeff sits on a plain chair right at the center, everybody else stands around him – Sanji feels as if he’s sticking out like a sore thumb.

He nearly misses the callused hand that reaches out and tugs him right next to the chair.  

“That’s my co-founder,” Zeff explains toward the surprised journalist, and Sanji feels his cheeks grow warm. “He’s a little brat, but he might one day become a decent cook.” 

* * *

 

“It’s a nice photo,” Nami comments with a chuckle. Sanji’s lips quirk - he knows he’s wearing an ear-splitting, stupid grin on that picture. Still, he kept it for a reason.

“What’s the last one?” Usopp asks, pulling it forward. It’s another newspaper clipping, and - “Ohh, that’s us, isn’t it? I mean, you guys and Sogeking.”

Nami’s eyebrows rise, and Sanji wonders how she feels about this picture. He’s foolishly proud of it - the marine photographer may have failed at getting a decent shot of him, but they did get an excellent picture of all six of them standing atop the justice tower, smoke billowing the background, and challenging the world government.

“It’s a pity Robin-chan isn’t on it,” Sanji admits. “Franky’s not on it, too, but Robin-chan’s beauty ought to be there.”

“And Usopp ought to be on it as well, shouldn’t you,” Nami quips with a light smile. Usopp flushes and Sanji grins to himself as he flips drops the minced tomatoes into the pan.

“Y-yes,” Usopp agrees, flustered. “But we’ve gotten more nakama since, haven’t we? Brook isn’t on there, and neither is Jinbe. We probably ought to get a picture with them…”

“You know,” Nami leans back, folding her arms in contemplation. “That’s a good idea. I mean we do get pictures from the marine photographers and from journalists from time to time, but maybe we should take some for ourselves.”

“That is a wonderful idea, Nami-swan,” Sanji agrees easily, and Usopp, too, nods after a moment. Memories are one thing, but having pictures helps. And all of them have lost people of whom they all probably wish they had more pictures, more mementos. 

* * *

 

Thus, in a rare moment of generosity, Nami organizes a camera for the crew. Franky masterfully mounts it just at the front of the boat, behind Luffy’s favorite perch. Mounting it, however, ends up being the easiest part. It turns out the strawhat crew may have ten members, but also fifteen different opinions on what a memorable picture ought to look like.

Zoro wants to strike a pose. Chopper a group hug. Nami would rather have them in fancy wardrobe. Luffy wants food. Usopp wants Sogeking to be in the picture.

A passing sea king wants to be in the picture, too.

It takes a huge leap. The resulting wave rocks the Sunny. Luffy howls with laughter, arms stretching wildly; Usopp’s invention explodes into a shower of fireworks, Chopper accidentally transforms to monster point, an extra pair of arms sprouts from Franky’s shoulders, and only Nami coolly keeps her pose.

The resulting picture is certainly not the cool, epic photograph they wanted. Due to the wave the camera tilted, and while Nami in her chic dress and amazing pose stand at the center, the background is sheer chaos with giant Chopper wrestling a sea king, Robin seated lotus style with a deity-like eight-armed Franky behind her, desperately grabbing hold of all the tools and objects the wave sent flying. Usopp’s firework nicely light up the background. They also bath Usopp in a halo of light that makes his “god” wanted poster all the more poignant.

On the left side of the frame, utterly unperturbed by everything Brook and Jinbe enjoy a cup of tea - they could have made cover of a Byronic novel, except for the chaotic surroundings and the fact that one is, after all, a skeleton wearing an Afro, and the other a literal fishman. Between them and Nami, Luffy has ruined Zoro’s attempt at a dramatic and Sanji’s attempt at a cool pose: in a bid to join the Chopper vs seaking match their captain has utilized his ability to rocket himself into the air. As a result, the picture features Luffy mid-launch and Sanji and Zoro off balance, clinging to each other in what might under other circumstances be interpreted as a dancing figure or a passionate embrace.

Well, Sanji thinks as he studies the picture, the pose is somewhat embarrassing, to be honest. But in the end the picture captures that sense of irreverent, carefree happiness perfectly.

So with a shrug and a smile he tapes the picture to the fridge.


	2. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whole Cake Island lies in ruin, but the trouble for the strawhats are not over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #2 of 32days of Sanji. Aka I'm terribly behind, but trying to catch up. 
> 
> Starts out angsty, goes schmoopy, includes heavy SPOILERS for the most recent chapters, and some (unlikely) speculation (Vinsmokes die). Also please assume Jinbei has gone out to take care of other duties, and feel free to read SaNami into it (the author may be a ZoSan shipper at heart, but the author's dead (inside) anyway).

Smoke rises from the ruins of whole cake island on the horizon behind them. The waters between Big Mom’s heartland and the floating Germa kingdom, however, barely stir, though the sky is drenched red at sunrise.

A light breeze stirs the curtains of the luxurious salon, yet the occupants seated among silk cushion pay no heed to the dawning day outside. A heavy mood hangs over them; not only because yesterday's events did not result in a clear victory, but also for the uncertain future that lies ahead.

The bodies cooling below are testament to that. Even the advanced medical knowledge the Germa scientists and doctors hold cannot bring back the dead.

“It’s for the best,” Sanji says quietly. Sadly. The bandages wrapped around his head only seem to emphasize his terrible pallor, and the past weeks have left shadows in his eyes.

And it should all be over now, Nami thinks. They got away, they’re all alive - they ought to be on the Sunny, eating and sleeping and celebrating.

But with the Vinsmoke family nearly eliminated, that terrible research exposed, and the Reverie coming up, there are consequences to consider. Ironic as it is, but being the pirates they are apparently makes interfering with world government politics their responsibility.

She rubs her eyes, not sure if the burn comes from fatigue or something else.

“We understand,” she says because the silence grows too heavy and she can't stand to see Sanji’s shoulders hunched with guilt.

Sanji gives her an exhausted smile and rubs at his wrists where a bracelet of bruises has replaced metal. Nami’s blood still runs cold when she thinks about it, and Luffy’s face when he found out was beyond speaking.

“I'd go with you if I could,” Sanji says, unable to keep a bitter note from his voice. Chopper sniffles.

“I'll come back,” Sanji promises hurriedly, reaching over to pat Choppers head. “This time I will.”

“You also promised last time,” Luffy points out in that eerily unreadable voice he sometimes adopts.

Sanji stiffens.

“It's not as if Sanji-san could have predicted this,” Brook protests calmly, while Chopper nods emphatically, snuggling closer to Sanji.

Luffy frowns. Sanji averts his eyes and lights a new cigarette.

“He certainly didn't leave because he wanted to,” Chopper adds, gazing worriedly from one to the other. “They threatened him to come along! You know they did, Luffy!”

“If somebody is to blame, you could as well blame us,” Brook comments with the teacup in his hand utterly steady. “After all had we been able to stop Sanji-san from leaving none of this may have occurred.”

Luffy’s lips wobble at that. Still, it's all in the past. 

“Who knows what may have happened then,” Nami forces herself to stop the building guilt. “Big Mom was weakened, which helps us. We may get an idea of what the world government is up to, as well.”

“They might have information on the last phoneglyph, too,” Brook adds.

“But Sanji doesn't want to go,” Luffy counters, folding his arms. “He said he wanted to go home to Sunny.”

Sanji hunches his shoulders a little more. “It's alright,” he hurries to say, and just for that Nami wants to hit him over the head. It's not all right and they all know it.

“It's not.”

To her surprise, that's her own voice speaking out loud. Sanji lifts his head; even Luffy glances over to her. The mild breeze coming in through the open window makes her shiver under that dark, serious gaze.

“It's not all right,” she repeats, her fingers unconsciously clenching around the velvet fabric of the chaise she sits on. “It's a course of action that makes sense, it is the responsible thing to do, and will likely benefit us in the long run.”

She swallows, taking in the room once more. Once she'd have thought it not too bad - for all that the Germa is a kingdom without land, they're wealthy. But it's a golden cage, she knows now.

“But it's not all right,” she finishes, perhaps a bit weakly.

“If I may, Miss Nami,” Brook replies idly. “I believe responsibility as a term may be tricky here. Sanji-san has cut all familiar ties with the Vinsmokes, not once but twice now. I don't think he has any responsibility toward the Germa or their research.”

Nami agrees emphatically; so does Chopper. Sanji, however, tilts his face down and buries one hand in his hair.

“He doesn't,” Luffy confirms, his eyes hard. Except Sanji, with his face hidden, doesn't see it.

No, Nami thinks, not after what that family did to him. He owes them nothing.

And yet.

They did end up fighting together. And she does not know everything that happened outside, but somehow Luffy and Sanji and all of them made it out alive, while the Vinsmokes did not.

If anyone is to feel responsible, they all are. Equally so.

“Sanji?” Chopper inquires softly, breaking the tense air. He wriggles closer, placing himself nearly in Sanji’s lap in order to get a closer look at his face. “Sanji, let us know what you're thinking.”

Sanji only huffs, but the hand wanders from his hair to Chopper’s fur.

“We’re all in this together, aren't we?” Nami asks, loudly. “So we ought to share our thoughts and then we can come up with a plan.”

“Good idea, Nami,” Luffy agrees. “Sanji, you go first.”

Nami bites her lip, because it's mean to put Sanji on the spot. And yet, his inclination to humor his friends’ wishes (they don't know how often above his own), makes it necessary.

Sanji flounders. Looks to Luffy, then Nami, then Brook and Chopper for help. But Nami keeps her face straight and Brook takes a sip of his tea, utterly calm and unmoved.

“I … It’s … “ Sanji’s shoulders pull together again. He takes a somewhat hurried drag from his cigarette. Exhales and visibly forced himself to relax. “A mess. It's a total mess, but that's got nothing to do with you. You only got dragged into it.”

“But the same is true for you, isn't it?” Chopper asks quietly, straightening up on Sanji’s lap to look up at him.

Sanji looks away.

“Sanji, they more or less kidnapped you,” Nami hisses, incredulous. “If we got dragged in, so did you.”

Next to her something rustles. A hand stretches past her with a familiar hat, and Nami swallows her words.

Luffy drops his treasured straw hat on Sanji’s head. “Tell us what you want.”

The hat hides Sanji’s eyes, but they can all see his jaw tighten.

“Don't lie,” Luffy adds firmly.

Sanji’s breath hitches. For a moment every muscle in his body seems to tense, struggling to retain a sense of his usual composure, to smother whatever turmoil brews behind that facade.

“I …,” Sanji’s voice chokes up. “You know I can't.”

He hunches over completely at that, would probably curl up on himself if not for Chopper in his lap. The little reindeer presses himself against Sanji, worried.

“Sanji-san,” Brook quietly admonishes over the golden rim of his teacup. “This is about what you want. Not what you think you ought or must do.”

Luffy gives one short, sharp nod.

“I want to go back to the Sunny,” Sanji finally admits, shoulders softening with grief. “I also want to make sure all of this never hurts anybody again.”

It's perhaps the most selfish statement they'll ever get from Sanji, Nami thinks with a small sigh.

“Then we will do that,” Luffy declares as if it was that simple.

Sanji looks up abruptly, a bitter frown on his face, and his eyes alight with unshed tears. “I don't think that will be possible, captain.”

“Then we’ll make it possible,” Luffy replies without flinching.

Nami sighs softly. Luffy’s unshakable faith is quite something, yet she finds herself sharing Sanji’s doubts.

“How?” Sanji asks, quietly.

Luffy thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “The Reverie is soon, isn't it? And we still have to pick up Zoro and the others from Wano and fight Kaidou.”

Nami shudders at the prospect. 

“And you've all been hounding me to slow down, too,” Luffy adds, looking perplexed at how perhaps his crew mates could think they’d been proceeding too fast. But if even Zoro mentioned that…

“So we go to Wano first, pick up the others, then sail back to Mariejois…” Luffy grimaces; sailing backward isn't something he particularly enjoys. “After that we go and fight Kaidou.”

It sounds simple. Simple and straightforward, and Nami’s mind is immediately hunting for the flaw in that plan.

“It's unlikely that Kaidou will attack us if we anchor near Mariejois,” Brook adds, a contemplative tilt to his head. “So we might have a moment to catch our breath there.”

“And if not, we still have an alliance with the fishmen islands, don't we?” Nami wonders out aloud. At the same time, she wonders what she's doing.

“We certainly have allies there,” Brook agrees, leaning back on his plush chair. Like Sanji, he seems right at home among the luxuries – but where Sanji also appears uncomfortable, Brook seems right above it. Perhaps it’s being dead that turns these grand questions into a trifle – but that’s not what matters here, Nami reminds herself. “We might need them facing Kaidou.”

Luffy pulls a petulant grimace. He’d rather take Kaidou on alone – but with his crew to consider that won’t work.

“But we’d bring the fight to them,” Sanji says, tired and worried.

“They were preparing to fight, anyway,” Luffy responds sharply. “Remember, they wanted to attend the Reverie, too.”

“Fighting a troublesome pirate like Kaidou may further their cause,” Brook adds slyly. “Especially should they do so allied not necessarily with the strawhat pirates, but with a kingdom that already has a seat in the Reverie.”

Oh my, Nami thinks, that’s clever. Sanji, too, seems too perplexed to protest.

“You mean the Germa?” Chopper asks.

Brook gives one short nod. “Yes.” He folds his hands over his knees and turns back to Sanji. “So while this is undoubtedly a difficult situation, I believe if we play our cards right, it may result in a rather unexpected opportunity.”

Kaidou’s phoneglyph. Knowledge on what the world government is planning. Helping the fishmen’s cause.

Luffy grins brightly and with that Nami realizes the decision has been made. “Well, then let’s go to Wano and pick up Zoro and the others.”

His laugh is contagious. Before long Brook smiles quietly into his teacup, Chopper’s fur has gone puffy, and even Sanji looks a little less fragile than before. It will take a bit for everything to settle, and Nami has sailed with this crew for long enough to know their plans rarely work out the way they were set out.

But they’ll make do. And the important thing for now is that they can all return to Sunny.

“And if anybody asks what some prince who ought to head toward Mariejois is doing on a pirate ship,” Nami adds with a toothy grin. “Let’s just call it a kidnapping.”


	3. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #4 Hands. They've almost made it back to the Sunny. When the exploding wristlets are brought up, and with Pudding's devil fruit ability, can they really be sure Reiju managed to switch them out for fakes? Featuring a very angry Luffy, and an introperspective Zoro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, prompt #4... and I'll add prompt #3 at some point (I've actually written it, but with rl being mad, editing and posting has turned tricky. Let's see how next week goes :3)

“Captain?” Zoro asks one quiet evening. Luffy sits on his usual seat atop the Sunny’s lion, but his face is unusually solemn. In fact, it has been that way ever since his group returned from Whole Cake Island.

Zoro’s got a very good idea of what occurred - Luffy and Sanji may not have talked, but Chopper, Nami and Brook were willing to share. More than anything, however, their behavior since then tells a tale of its own.

All of them still cast worried glances their cook’s way. Certainly, the guy’s looking seriously roughed up with bandages peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt and his sleeves, fading bruises and healing cuts all over his skin. Yet there’s a deeper sense of unsettlement there, some emotion Sanji seems keen to ignore.

Unlike his nakama.

It shouldn't be news to them that their cook is a self-sacrificing idiot, Zoro thinks (hello pot, kettle speaking), but half of straw hats act as if he did die – in that they seem to constantly make sure curly’s still with them. And yes, Chopper and Nami both emphasized how close it had been. Zoro still thinks they’re missing something.

Thus, the other half of their crew watches in confusion - well, Robin appears to have understood already, though when Usopp asked her for more she politely declined to share. Franky’s different, too, but that's because he was the one to dismantle the silver cuffs around Sanji’s wrists. Few words had been said, and Zoro had already decided to mostly ignore them -

Until somebody had whispered the words “slave collar” and he’d nearly dropped his weights.

For a moment then, Zoro had felt anger in chest, a desire to seek out whoever did this and slice them to ribbons.

Then he’d tightened his grip on his weights and decided that Sanji ought to be more than capable to do that himself. For all that half the crew now appears intent on treating him some fragile piece of china, Zoro’s not going to join that conga line.

Should they ever come across whoever put those wristlets on Sanji, though, Zoro is going to join the line to beat them up.

“Zoro?” Luffy turns to look over his shoulder, hair swaying in the gentle sea breeze. “What’s it?”

Zoro crosses his arms before his chest, momentarily awkward. Words aren't his favored form of communication, he prefers to let his swords speak for himself - and it works well with Sanji, in fact that's why he thinks he finally figured out what's going on anyway.

“What happened,” he demands shortly. Luffy will know what he means. Will know that this question extends beyond coercion, marriage politics, the strange alliance with Capone, and the eventually successful rescue.

Luffy’s lips pull down and his eyes grow distant. “I failed.”

The sun’s warmth fades a bit and Zoro frowns. But in truth, he is not surprised. “How?”

“I couldn't protect him.”

Ah, Zoro thinks, that’s it.

***

“Really?” Katakuri Charlotte asks from his perch atop a gingerbread house next to the Sunny, and for some reason his words stop everyone cold.

The straw hats are but a stone’s throw from the Sunny, Brook and Jinbei and Pedro already aboard, Nami just about to launch herself and Chopper forward - but there's something to Katakuri’s voice, that note of absolute confidence that makes Luffy halt and his crewmates follow his example.

Katakuri merely sits there, watching them, the gun in his hands idly pointed toward the ground. For a moment time stands still as all activities – the mad chase, the fighting – freezes.

“So you’re sacrificing them after all?” Katakuri asks, and a gust of wind makes his clothes stir on this warm, sunny day. Luffy shifts his weight, confused at the question, but he realizes it’s not directed at him. “Is that dream not so important after all?”

Katakuri looks at Sanji who’s but three steps away from Luffy.

Luffy frowns, unease twisting in his chest. “What are you on about?”

He can feel the uncertain eyes of his crew mates on his back, knows that they wonder why he stopped their escape. They could be on the boat, can still make the jump within moments.  Yet Luffy senses a veiled threat.

With a patronizing smile Katakuri turns to Luffy. “You don't know?” he asks, mockingly.

“It’s not important,” Sanji hisses. Luffy glances to him from the corner of his eye, catches the way his cook presses his lips together, and evades Luffy’s eyes. And that reveals enough.

A rustle makes him glance back toward the sweet commanders again - Charlotte Pudding, still in her ostentatious white wedding dress has caught up to her brother, and her expression is chilly.

“You must be familiar with the concept of slave collars, no?” she inquires, smiling coldly, and Luffy can feel Sanji flinch behind him. The sunlight catches a glint of silver, nearly hidden by the long sleeves of Sanji’s jacket.

Luffy’s blood runs cold.

“Now, you probably understand that we needed to make sure the groom didn’t attempt to run,” Pudding explains cheerfully, the smile on her face vicious. “The Vinsmoke family even helped fixing those in place.”

White, hot rage fills Luff’s chest like wildfire, burns in his veins and demands blood. It's all he can do to stay in place, because he know once he starts moving he will not stop. Will not stop before each and every one has paid for their cruelty, for their callousness and for the harm they caused.

“They're set to explode the moment he leaves the island,” Katakuri adds with a smirk. “Might not kill him and only bust up the hands. But no guarantees.”

Words are not enough to express what boils underneath Luffy’s skin. He turns from the Sunny, escape no longer central. His fingers itch - he wants them to pay, and so do his nakama. He can sense the shift in the air around them; the minuscule shifts in posture.

“They won't,” Sanji interrupts, lighting up a fresh cigarette and pretending not to care. Luffy doesn't miss the pallor of his face, and can't help but wonder what kind of gambit he is attempting.

“Reiju switched them out,” Sanji continues, faux-relaxed. “These are fake.” He lifts an arm and jiggles the bracelet.

The bruises underneath show up dark on pale skin.

Katakuri frowns, but Pudding’s sickeningly sweet smile grows only wider. “Oh, did she?” she asks sweetly. “Did you see her do it? Are you sure whatever she told you did really happen? Maybe somebody just made her think she’d done it, but in truth she never did.”

The air shivers. Sanji doesn't reply immediately; which makes something in Luffy’s chest harden.

“What does she mean?” he asks, voice utterly without inflection.

Sanji purses his lips, looks to the side. “She can manipulate memories.”

Which means they don’t know. The cuffs around Sanji’s wrists might be fake, or might be real. It’s a risk Luffy will not take.  

“But I think she's lying,” Sanji adds and then casts a gentle glance to his once would-be bride. “Pudding-chan has been lying to a lot of people for a long time.”

Luffy isn't surprised at the affectionate note in Sanji’s voice. But he cannot forgive her. Not for this.

“Let's go, captain,” Sanji suggests with a forced shrug, turning toward the Sunny.  

Luffy stretches out an arm and stops him.

“No,” he simply states. He will not risk Sanji’s dream, not when he can fight. He cracks his knuckles, stretches his senses.

“Luffy…” Sanji entreats. We can make a run for it. We can make it. Maybe I’ll get hurt, but nobody else will – Sanji doesn’t say those words, but Luffy hears them anyway.

“No,” Luffy repeats firmly. “I won't let you risk that.”

Normally, Luffy would be willing to trust Sanji’s observation haki, would gamble his life on it without hesitation. But it's not Luffy’s or Nami’s or anyone else's life - it's Sanji's own. And he's been far too willing to throw that away for their sake all along.

Luffy will not allow that. Nor will their other nakama.

“Ach, how adorable,” Pudding mocks, loudly from atop the sugar-covered building. “It makes me want to barf.”

The sweet commanders and their soldiers easily outnumber them a hundred to one, but they are confused. The straw hats are angry.

He senses Nami shift her weight, ready her clima tact. Chopper is holding onto a rumble ball, cold determination in his posture. And even on the ship Brook and the others all are prepared to unleash hell at a moment’s notice.

Luffy allows his anger to boil over.

Conqueror’s haki leashes out like a whip, brings countless soldiers to their knees with choked screams filling the air. Pudding totters and Katakuri grimaces. But these are not untrained civilians, these are a Yonkou’s soldiers, and they won't be defeated by Haki alone.

“Give me the keys,” Luffy demands, taking a firm step forward the gingerbread structure.

Pudding bursts out laughing, throws her head back. “Mother has them! Go and get them yourself!”

Luffy notices uneasy shifting, but he doesn't care. He will fight Big Mom, in fact he should have done so from the start.

“Luffy, let's just go,” Sanji hisses. “It'll be fine.”

“Yeah, he might even survive,” Pudding mocks. “Who knows, maybe he’ll figure out how to cook with his feet.”

Sanji looks to the ground, Luffy at his nakama. He can see his own fury mirrored in their eyes.

“Get out of my way,” Luffy orders coldly.

The soldiers stand fast. Luffy launches himself forward.

The fight turns quickly - righteous anger favoring the straw hats even when faced with the sweet commanders. Nami alone manages to take out nearly a third of the soldiers within the first ten minutes of battle. Then a howl makes the ground shudder and the scream “monster” rises.

Even Katakuri pauses, bewildered.

Sanji takes the chance to slam his foot into Katakuri’s face. Chopper stomps forward at monster point, buildings and structures crumbling like dry leaves before him. Soldiers turn to flee, screaming arises -

And Luffy looks to figure out a way to Big Mom.

But that moment, tiny as it is, turns out to be all Pudding needs.

A gunshot echoes. And Sanji, who’s been sticking close to the water, is thrown back - right off the island.

Luffy’s mind goes blank.

This cannot -

He -

“Sanjiiii!” Nami screams, launching herself forward, dashing toward the water, followed by Jinbei.

Pudding throws her head back, laughing wildly, the gun in her hand still pointed into Sanji’s direction.

Luffy’s fist finds her a split moment later.

He doesn't quite know what happens next; fury and fear filling his veins and suffusing his senses. Bones break and blood stains his fingers; he doesn't know it it's his own or somebody else's. The screaming doesn't even reach his ears.

“Luffy!” his nakama’s voices, however, do. “Chopper!” He turns to find Nami waving from the Sunny’s deck, with Jinbei bending over somebody out of sight.

“He's alright!”

Luffy scarcely believes it. How can Sanji be alright when they failed to protect him. When Luffy failed.

“The cuffs didn't explode,” Nami shouts. “Let's get going!”

Barely anybody is left standing anyway. Pudding lies in a heap where she fell, Katakuri is curled on his knees.

Brook turns toward the ship. Luffy hesitates, and that makes Brook pause.

“Captain?”

“I don't want to run,” Luffy says. He wants to make Big Mom pay. For this travesty, for all the horror’s she wrought.

For making him fail.

“Fight her another time,” Brook advises, and then his tone grows chilly. “When time comes, she will reap what she has sown.”

Luffy nods sharply. He jerks a random soldier up by the collar, shakes him until his eyes begin to flutter.

“You,” Luffy orders. “Tell Big Mom I’m coming for her head.”

***

Zoro tilts his head. “I don't think Curly needs any protection.” And their cook would likely agree. Sadly with his survival instincts, Zoro knows the actual situation is slightly different.

But Luffy gets what he means. “He wasn't about to do it himself.”

“Yeah, he's an idiot, but that's not new,” Zoro replies, tone semi-caustic. Even now it makes Luffy relax just the slightest.

“Still,” Luffy continues after a moment. “I wanted to, and it didn't work out. In the end we were just lucky.”

“Then you were lucky,” Zoro replies with a shrug. Sometimes being lucky is all it needs, he knows that. “Next time you can do it without luck.”

And the tension finally drains out of Luffy’s shoulders and he chuckles.

“You're right,” he says, tilting his head so the shadow from his hat hides his eyes. “Next time we’ll make it without luck.”

Zoro nods, and looks toward the sea and the sinking sun. It was a call too close for comfort, he understands that. And Luffy’s still reeling from losing Ace -

But at least this time they have a second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think :)


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